Horribly Beautiful

I am emerging from some of the worst weeks of my life. On Saturday, July 17th, we lost our 3rd child. I was 8 1/2 weeks pregnant, and we were waiting a few more weeks to share the news with everyone. This pregnancy was unexpected, but so exciting. In fact we called the baby our little miracle because we had taken every precaution not to get pregnant and still found ourselves expecting this precious baby. We were thrilled to have a new little baby on the way, due in February and making us the parents of 3 babies under 3. But on Wednesday, July 14th, I started having issues. I tried not to worry, as this can be very normal. But it wasn't normal for me. The issues continued on and off until Saturday, when it got much worse. Patrick and I hurried to the ER, where it was confirmed that I had been having a miscarriage for the past few days. It was awful, horrible, scary and heart-breaking. The worst thing I have ever gone through. We spent 6 hours at the hospital mourning the loss of our little child, scared and hurting. We came home and tried to mourn and comfort one another. Patrick was amazing, my hero in all of this. I was so proud of his strength and his compassion. I love him so much more after all of this. But the nightmare didn't stop there. After enduring what felt like my heart being ripped out we were met with ridiculous bills, more doctor appointments, and the following Thursday a scary prognosis. I got a call saying that the lab tech had found that my pregnancy was a molar pregnancy. This means that some sort of mass overtook my baby and was growing inside my uterus. It happens in 1/1000 pregnancies, always results in miscarriage, and requires a year of no pregnancy and monthly doctor visits to ensure that the mole does not return. Then the lady said something about precancerous cells. What?! Talk about scary. I went from one day excitedly expecting my third child to losing a baby and possibly a condition? No! As soon as the spotting started I felt very strongly that it was an attack from the enemy. Now I know that it was. He is trying to scare me and my family, and I say no. After 4 days of no answers and lots of prayer and worry, I met with my doctors who told me that my placenta overtook my baby, that it was all completely gone, no worry of cancer and that as soon as my HCG levels (pregnancy hormones in the blood) go back to normal pre-pregnancy levels I am fine to try again whenever I like. As of today my levels are almost to 0. Thank you Jesus! This whole ordeal has been horribly beautiful. It may seem strange for me to say that, but in the really awful times we can see God so clearly. The distractions have faded away and it is just Him and I. He provided for me and cared for me so gently and so lovingly in this that I feel so blessed to have endured it. Mind you, I would much rather be 11 weeks pregnant with my sweet baby, but I know that my little miracle is in the arms of Jesus awaiting my arrival. And throughout every moment of the miscarriage, the diagnosis, the scary waiting, worries, stressing over money and the awful things said by some hospital staff, God was there and loving me. He held my hand and gently guided my every step. The day that I lost the baby, I asked God what He had to say about my situation - would I lose the baby or not? I opened my Bible and it fell to Isaiah 51 and on the side was written the hymn Be Still My Soul. It spoke of the Lord being on my side and with me through suffering and loss. It was 5 minutes later that my miscarriage began. He allowed me to feel absolutely no pain throughout all of it, not at the hospital, not before or after. He gave me strength in the days of not knowing if I might have precancerous cells and require surgery to remove them by bringing loving family to pray over me continually and sweet notes from the few friends that Patrick had shared our heartbreak with. He allowed Patrick and I to become so much closer in all of this and taught us to treasure every second with our babies, because we are not promised one moment together or that we will always be healthy. He caused the hospital to negotiate bills with us and gave us unexpected money to pay for it. He made me grateful for my ability to bear children and hopeful about the many more we hope to have. He gave me compassion for the lost and misguided nurse who tried to console me by calling my precious child a mere piece of tissue that was not a living being. He showed me how carefully he knits each one of us together so perfectly and intricately and lovingly. He took care of little details like allowing it to all happen on a Saturday when Patrick was home, for us to leave while the kids were napping so they didn't have to see me crying, and at a time when my mom was able to watch them for the 6 hours we were at the hospital. He took care of everything. And though my heart is so broken and I miss this little baby that I have yet to truly meet, I feel like my broken heart is in the arms of the Father who is piecing it back together with so much care and love, and that He has enlarged it for me. I worried about sharing all of this in such a public way. But our little baby Sprout counted. That baby had a four chambered heart that was beating and little fingers and toes that were just forming. My baby was alive, no matter for one day in my womb or 30 years, no matter what nurse Donna says. On a side note, I feel a huge burden for Donna. She has been so lied to and I think I will forever be praying for her. I wanted to share the story of our Sprout because I didn't want to act as if this person, this tiny little miracle didn't exist. My baby has been in the arms of the Savior for his/her entire life. And though I will not hold my baby this side of Heaven, this sweet baby has fulfilled his/her God-given purpose. This little one brought our family closer to each other and to our Lord. And I am convinced that more will come from the short but wonderful life of this baby in the years to come. I think about my Sprout everyday, and I am excited for the day we will finally meet. Heaven just got that much sweeter.